


tripping on sunshine and other acts of kindness

by fuscience



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-19
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-09 06:19:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1142507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuscience/pseuds/fuscience
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Somewhere in between being CEO and city-saving vigilante Oliver decides to make the first move. Or the one where Oliver takes Felicity on a date and she doesn't realize it. It all ends the same anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	tripping on sunshine and other acts of kindness

**Author's Note:**

> Based off a Tumblr prompt here: http://allstartstofade.tumblr.com/post/73811421164
> 
>  
> 
> I know I didn't do it justice, but it was too wonderful to pass up and the key to improvement is practice!
> 
> Sorry it's not a complete smut - I tried! I’m still working on writing and was afraid it would ruin everything because I’m an absolute waste at it.
> 
> Unbeta'd and past my self-appointed bed time so all mistakes are mine and if you see them (because they are there) I would appreciate a head's up! Thanks.

It is late and Felicity is tired to the point that she can no longer feel the keys under her fingers, they simply tingle as she follows the well-known pattern of letters and commands to end her work. Oliver is changing and packing up for the night, his leather green outfit swapped for his office attire, bow and arrow for briefcase. Digg stands over near the mats picking up any discarded weapons, cleaning up the mess as usual.

 _He’s a wonderful den mother_ Felicity thinks to herself, one who will never actually hear her call him that.

Finally, tonight’s activities are finished. Evidence is catalogued into a well-organized dossier for the Starling city police and criminals are tied to lamp posts across the city. It is a comfortable quiet inside the foundry, an exhausted, satisfying type of silence that accompanies a night without the panic of near-death experiences.

Clicking send on the SCPD message, Felicity leans back and stretches her hands over her head, ponytail swaying over her shoulder. Several kinks in her back crack and release and she can’t help but give a little moan of pleasure. Diggle pauses at the door, wishing them all a good morning, which makes her lips tilt upwards in mirth. It is nearly four in the morning and the sun will be up in a little over two hours - sleep has been a spare luxury this week. The sound of steel against slab reverberates through the room signaling Diggle’s departure. Felicity gets up to leave as well, the screens of her computers now black and dead. Oliver stands silently near the exit, waiting to walk her out, over-protective employer that he is.

They begin the short trek to her car, through the dimly lit alley way in the back of Verdant where she parks. When her MINI comes into sight Oliver begins to fidget. Not fidgeting like a normal person, but slight stammers in his step, clenching and unclenching of his fists, and a tight, thin line where his lips used to be. This is a raging storm of emotions for him, one Felicity does not fail to see, but doesn't quite understand

She pauses at the door to her car and raises a hand to his bicep, fingers barely even curling over the wide contours of his muscles, “Is everything okay?”

He startles and Oliver really shouldn’t be surprised at this point that she can read him so well. She knows him in a way that is so intimate he has no idea how to even begin describing this relationship to anyone outside. IT girl, Executive Assistant, Friend, Partner. These words describe everything and nothing all at once.

His throat dries and he can feel his body entering panic mode - this is terrifying - and Oliver wishes he could remember how the hell he’s managed to do this the other thousand times. Asking a woman to dinner should not be this alarming.

The words end up spilling out into the night air. “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow?”

Oliver had a plan. He lost many things on the island, but his ability to woo women wasn’t one of them. Everything is always different with Felicity though and why should this be the exception? Speaking of, if this is how she always feels, no communication between words and brain, he really has to work on the empathy thing because his face is burning and, _god,_ is that sweat dripping down his neck? He fights to regain any semblance of the cool exterior that is normally his default mode.

There were supposed to be flowers involved, definitely red wine, when he asked her out. No where, in any of his fantasies, was there a dark alley in the Glades - well, maybe one, (he’s still in his leather pants - just his pants - and she’s wearing that gold dress) - but the stench of garbage and alcohol did not make for grand romantic gestures.

All Oliver can think now is that she’s going to say no. Or worse, ignore the request. The seconds of silence are deafening over the sounds of his heartbeat.

“Sure. Where were you thinking?” Felicity is looking at him expectantly and Oliver is not enjoying his complete lack of ability to form coherent sentences which has been persisting for the last couple minutes.

“Uh. Aquarium?” He says it as a question, still not sure that this is going as well as it has.

Aquarium is about as high-class you can get without receiving menus in another language and Felicity is a little thrown by the change in venue. Big Belly Burger it is not.

“Suuurre.” She draws out, arching an eyebrow.

“I’ll pick you up.” He spits out quickly before she can change her mind - or ask questions. He can see her gearing up to protest, but stops her with a hand, “I don’t mind. Please. I want to take you somewhere nice.”

Felicity shrugs and deflates, too tired to really argue, she had long given up on telling Oliver how to use his money .

“It’s a date then.” Oliver states. Finally in control of himself, he twists around her to open the car door.

Felicity’s smile quirks up again and she steps into the car, “Okay. See you tomorrow Oliver.”

Oliver may or may not have fist pumped once her car was out of sight.

 

* * *

 

He didn’t mean _date_ date. Of course, it was dinner and a nice restaurant, and he was picking her up - classic symptoms of a date. But Diggle would be there so this was really more of a team outing. Team Arrow bonding time. Normally, the food consisted of greasy burgers or take out, not fifty dollar plates of seafood, but she could go with the flow. Felicity was flexible. Oliver uses the word date like she uses the word computer anyway - daily and with a sense of banality. This was probably just his way of staving off his guilt over the long nights and hours. **Not** a date. **Not. A. Date**.

This mantra follows Felicity as she lays down to sleep.

 

* * *

 

A thought tickles the back of her brain as she watches Oliver the next day. He stumbles walking up the stairs, accidentally knocks a stack of papers off his desk, and somehow forgets Isabel’s name when Ms. Rochev comes up to inquire about proprietary investments and fluctuating stock prices. Felicity can’t ever seem to catch his eye, but has an instintive heat on the back of her neck that says he is staring.

It freaks her out.

Oliver is grace and strength and today he fumbles around like a can of Mexican Jumping Beans.

 

* * *

 

Oliver has another plan, a good one, one he will stick to this time, and it involves being a gentleman and taking it slow and making sure Felicity knows how serious he is about this. Wine too. Her lighthearted answer earlier threw him off-kilter. He had been expecting arguments - how this wouldn’t work, how he wasn’t ready, how everyone else might not be ready - but his heart is steel and ice and he will be perfect tonight.

“I’m heading out.” Felicity pokes her head into his office, one hand up in a goodbye gesture and the other wrapped around her bag full of tech.

“Okay. I’ll see you later tonight.” He smiles pleasantly, professionally. Not at all like he is outlining the next ten years of his life with her.

“Yep, we're going to have a whale of a time tonight." Oliver quirks an eyebrow at her. "You know, because we're going to the Aquarium? And... Nevermind, it's not funny if I have to explain." She smiles softly at him, "Good night Oliver, I'll see you at dinner." 

 

* * *

 

When he picks her up there is a black town car downstairs and a driver, Rick (read: Not Diggle), in the front seat. Felicity is wearing a deep blue, empire cut, dress with one strap wrapping around her shoulder, leaving the other bare, and Oliver can just barely see the black heels peeking out from underneath the floor length material.

 _Felicity feels it again_ \- Oliver’s burning stare.

For the umpteenth time she wonders if something went wrong today and he’s just waiting for her to notice. Felicity decides to ignore the tingling on the back of her neck and instead admire her company for the night. His black suit pairs well and she is overly appreciative of how it cuts his shoulders, dragging her eyes down the length of his body. It’s not as if this is the first time she’s seen it, but just because you’ve tasted chocolate a thousand times doesn’t mean it isn’t glorious everytime you eat it. Oliver catches her eye and a fire burst from within, charring Felicity's insides and she suddenly feels the temperature in the hallway increase exponentially. He breaks eye contact first and clears his throat, offering her an arm as they make their way down to the car.

The ride to dinner isn’t any better. Oliver keeps _looking_ at her and continues his accident prone streak for the day. He bumps his head getting into the car, before hitting his shin on the edge of the door. All of this happens, of course, only after Oliver stumbles on the curb and uses her boob as stabilization.

When they arrive at the restraunt, the air is thick with embarassment, and they have not spoken a word to each other since Felicity accidentally called the driver Dick instead of Rick. The Aquarium is aptly named, wall to wall tanks of exotic fish and ocean greenery flood the rooms with color and the low lighting makes for an inviting area to eat.

Felicity is suddenly nervous, she can look the look, but she can’t walk the walk that comes with having a house filled with more items than a Super Target. They are greeted by a maître d' dressed in a traditional tuxedo, tails waving out the back of his coat, and all Felicity can wonder is _where’s Diggle? This would be a hell of a lot less awkward if Diggle was here? Why is Diggle late?_ And _what is Oliver doing with his hand?_

She can feel his fingers wrap around her own, calloused and warm, keeping her by his side as they are led to a table towards the back of the restaurant. Felicity’s eyes flick back and forth between their entwined hands and Oliver’s calm face. He doesn’t seem bothered by the intimacy of the act and Felicity reminds herself that she can go with the flow. She’s flexible. Her fingers relax into his grip, curling around the rough skin.

The rest of the night is not as bad as the beginning. Oliver buys her a bottle of wine - a 1997 Dom. Romane Conti - which automatically makes the evening worth everything. It is not even on the menu and Felicity wonders when Oliver will stop fueling her fantasies about him and alcohol.

“The great thing about wine is everything.” Felicity sighs in delight as the waiter prepares to pour them each a glass.

“Is that so?” He chuckles, “And how is this particular bottle?”

She lets the deep red liquid slide down her throat, hints of berry, spices, licorice, and a dab of soy sauce warping her taste buds in pleasure.

“Orgasmic.” It’s really the only word she can think of to describe this wine that probably cost more than her rent and car payment combined, but she nonetheless blushes into the glass and looks up at Oliver.

He just continues to watch her with an almost adoring look in his eye. They are thankfully interrupted by the waiter taking their food orders. Felicity continues to glance at the unused seats of the table throughout the night, wondering when Diggle will be coming, but unwilling to break the flow of easy conversation Oliver and her have achieved. By the end of dinner, Felicity finds herself tipsy on wine and Oliver’s company.

Oliver is simply drunk on her.

 

* * *

 

They leave Aquarium laughing and it is one of the least stressful evenings Oliver has had in a long time. Being with Felicity is easy, has always been easy. The driver is silent and Oliver slumps into the back seat listening to Felicity tell bad wine jokes.

_What did the grape say when the Elephant stepped on it?_

_…_

_Nothing, it just gave a little wine!_

He walks her to the door, relaxed and laughing. When they come to her apartment, Felicity is overcome with a wave of sadness. The absence of Diggle hasn't dampened the mood tonight at all, quite the opposite in fact - it allowed them to connect in a casual way that they hadn't done in a while. She wants to take this night, with all of Oliver’s gentle smiles and his quiet laughter, and lock it away to be preserved for all eternity. She wants Oliver to always be this happy. Felicity looks up and realizes that Oliver is suddenly inches from her and she is now stuck between a door and rock-hard abs. His eyes seem to darken when they look at her, and Felicity abruptly wishes she had not foregone underwear - panty lines be damned.

They have been working themselves to this point for a long time, like a Jane Austen novel, Felicity and Oliver have existed on small touches and brief heartfelt moments for a very, very long time.  Felicity will later consider this the moment all the unresolved sexual tension was finally resolved, when they finally decided to stop tiptoeing around whatever this thing between them was. It may also be known as the first time Oliver kisses her, the first time her hands dig into the back of his head, the first time she lets her fingernails trace patterns across his scalp and the first time he groans because of it ( _none of this is the last time_ ). In an act of spontaneity, Felicity pushes up to slant her lips over his, wine and good company making her brave. What surprises her is the force that Oliver returns the kiss with, until they are pressed into the doorway, his hands holding her waist and drawing their hips together. Oliver’s heart flares and stutters all the while, melting, and this is how it should be he realizes - passion and heat, not ice or steel.

Her lips part beneath his, welcoming Oliver's tongue, and her hands tug at his shirt, his shoulders, his hair - trying to bring him even nearer. Their mouths continue to move trying to find some semblance of pacing instead of the frantic press of lips and tongues that is taking over. His hands are groping blindly around her thighs, pushing her dress up around her waist, and he nearly explodes when his fingers find the distinct lack of undergarments beneath her dress. Felicity is practically dripping and one of his hands can’t resist running along the wetness and Oliver revels in the gasp it draws from her. His hips are pushing upwards, thrusting, and Oliver is lifting her up against the door, continuing to trace a path with his lips from her mouth to her collarbone while some of his fingers drag along her inner thigh.  Felicity thinks of the car, the wine, and his hands and is taken aback by the realization that tonight was a _date_ date.

“Wait.” She groans out, mercilessly, breathless and choking on her own arousal, “Was this a date?”

Oliver stares at her incredulously and Felicity loves the look on him, her lipstick on his face, her fingers splayed across his face.

He huffs in frustration, nuzzling his face into her neck, attempting to regain control before trying to answer. Oliver lifts his head to meet her gaze, eyes still dark with want, “Felicity. This was - is -”

Oliver really cannot handle this because her dress strap has slipped off her shoulder and the lipstick he loves is smeared across her face a bit and he really just wants to lean down and kiss her again but now he can’t because she didn’t know this was a date.

He runs a hand, the one that had been underneath her dress, through the short bristles of his hair, keeping her posted against the wall with his body - muscles tense and unsure. Felicity breaths out a big apologetic sigh and her eyes keep darting back and forth like she doesn’t know how to respond to this anymore. She can feel his erection digging into her thigh and the hard planes of his chest are pushed against her breasts, rubbing together every time one of them moves. His breath is hot against her face and Oliver leans forward until their noses are touching, cupping her face with his free hand, wanting to enjoy her for a few more seconds. Felicity wishes she wouldn’t have opened her big mouth. Her tongue darts out to sweep across her mouth, soothing the spots Oliver had sucked and nipped at, and he just watches and thinks _Fuck it_.

“ _Felicity_.” Oliver groans, placing his hands right back where they were , “Tonight was a date. Tomorrow, I would like to take you out again. On a date.”

He can barely keep his hands still, and Felicity is waiting with bated breath as the ghosts of his hands stick to her body.

"May I take you out on another date?" Oliver looks at her with black eyes, waiting for permission, looking for acceptance.

“Of course, I - “ Her thoughts dies a quick death under his lips.

Looking back, Felicity celebrates Oliver’s ability to multitask as he managed to open her door with his hands while simultaneously removing all her inhibitions about the night with his mouth. And while she doesn’t quite remember _how_ they got to the bed (it may have involved many stops along the way - the floor, the kitchen counter, the hallway wall), the important thing is they did make it - and decided not to leave it the rest of the following day..


End file.
